Growing up in a household of six girls was an adventure. All the different personalities, desires, perspectives. When "the baby" was born, my oldest sister was 16. I was directly in the middle; 8 years older, 8 years younger. I can't say I was all that excited about the new baby of the family. I had been "the baby" for 8 years and I do believe my nose was a little disjointed over the whole ordeal. Thankfully my baby sister and I have hearts that are closely knitted. Having a common thread in so many ways.
This morning in church I sat behind the Pastor's daughters. Young ladies. Hair color of various shades of brown to blonde. Sun kissed by summer activities. Smiling. Not like, walk around with a euphoric smile pasted to their face but smiles that light up a room and frame their beautiful faces. Love permeates from their countenance. Delightful. Okay, I know....that's enough. As I sat behind them I was struck with a thought that has crossed in front of me a couple of times. I have at times thought about what it was like to have all those daughters in one household. What it was like for my mom to take us to town and to be in public with us. All the attitude, laughter, and words spoken in a day.
As a mother of 3 boys, I remember what it was like to be in the presence of them and their dad. All tall, handsome, striking, playful young men. Seriousness. Gruffness. Sparks. Smiles. Sadness. So many memories to be thankful for.
As the family gathers around my parents at various days and times during this time of healing, it is just a simple reminder that life is not always fair, but it is good. Pastor Drew said this of God recently. He said "God is not always safe, but He is good". It struck me in the deepest part of this momma's heart.
This afternoon I went swimming with my sister Joan and her son, Adam. After a moment of hesitation, I said I'd go but didn't think I'd swim because I didn't have my swim suit. We went to the first hole on Kidder Creek and endeavored to find a place that was not so crowded. Getting to the hole, I slipped and fell in the water. So much for that. I figured I might as well enjoy the water and embrace the summertime tradition handed down from the last generation. After a bit, two ladies showed up with two little girls. Zoe and Willow were their names. They were both seven but Zoe pointed out she would be 8 soon. These little girls took to me instantly. They asked me to jump off the rocks with them, throw them in the air, and just play with them. What a delightful way to spend a couple of hours. God filled this humble vessel again today.
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